


haeresis dea

by vulnavias



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Demons, F/F, Light Dom/sub, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulnavias/pseuds/vulnavias
Summary: She holds the reins; you are happy to go where she leads. (Female Reader/Tall Ghoulette)





	haeresis dea

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this photo by Ryan Chang, which is one of the many reasons why I owe him my life.
> 
> Also, the ghouls are demons.

Your footsteps echo in the large, empty space. The backstage area is usually buzzing with activity - crew members setting up equipment, ghouls getting ready for a show. Now it’s only the two of you and the eerie silence sends a chill up your spine as you approach her.

She has been waiting for you. In the dim lighting it’s hard to read her eyes, but her body language - legs crossed, sitting so still one might mistake her for a statue - gives you the distinct impression that you have disappointed her. You apologize for being late but she gives no indication that she understands your words. The moment drags on and you can only stand there, head bowed, waiting for her to make a move. Finally, it seems she has decided to let you make it up to her. She uncrosses and spreads her legs, inviting you to take your place between them.

You sink to your knees. Now that you’re closer, you can see her black eyes watching you and it’s as if she’s staring right into your soul. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating. You lean forward and press you face between her thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal, feeling the heat radiating from her, warm against your skin even through the fabric of her pants. You look up at her, silently asking permission to move forward. She gives it.

You meticulously begin dismantling her uniform, not wanting to rush but aware that taking too long will only displease her more. You unhook her suspenders, unfasten her trousers and peel them away, along with the silk black panties you find underneath. Her heels clatter against the concrete floor as you remove them and toss them aside.

You take a moment to drink her in, naked from the waist down. She is exposed but in no way vulnerable. She holds the reins; you are happy to go where she leads.

Sliding your hands up her thighs, you press your lips to her belly, her hips, leaving a trail of kisses as you make your way lower. She doesn’t touch you yet and you yearn to feel her hands tugging at your hair, pulling you where she wants you. But luckily for you, you know what she likes and you let your experience be your guide.

She likes to be teased, but only to a certain point; she wants you to make it last, but not drag it out. You flatten your tongue and lick along her slit, teasing her open. Her taste on your tongue is unlike anything you’ve ever known before, something unearthly and inhuman, dark and delicious. You find yourself longing to taste her at the most inopportune times, having to fight the urge to drop to your knees in front of her when others around or sneak to the ghouls’ area of the church complex in the middle of the night to slip into bed with her and bury your face in her cunt. She’s certainly aware of her affect on you. She knows how much it pleases you to give her pleasure, and you have worked out very nice, mutually beneficial arrangement. Neither of you understand much of the other’s language but you seem to have found a universal dialect in the curves of each other’s bodies.

Sucking her clit between your lips, you let your teeth graze the sensitive nub just a little, just enough to get a shiver out of her. She rewards you with a hand on the back of your head, and you feel the hint of claws teasing your scalp. It’s your turn to tremble, wanting to feel her clawing at your skin, leaving red marks behind that you’ll treasure for days. As you begin to lap at her clit in earnest, drawing incoherent symbols with the tip of your tongue, her breath hitches, her hips rise to meet your mouth, and her hand tightens in your hair.

The tiny cracks in her composed exterior speak volumes. She loves this as much as you do. You want to see how far she’ll let you go this time; sometimes she’ll let you touch her, caress her, and sometimes she makes you keep your hands to yourself, using only your mouth to please her. You slide one hand up her stomach, reaching for her breast, but she swats it away. You move the same hand between her thighs, just below your mouth, and circle her entrance with your finger, asking to be let in. She shakes her head. That’s how it’s going to be tonight, then. You rest your hands on her thighs and leave them there, and you press your tongue harder against her clit.

You give her what she wants, working her over with your tongue, spit and her wetness dripping down your chin as you bring her closer to the edge. Her black eyes flash in the dim light as they meet yours, and they tell you more than any human or ghoul language could say. You’ve learned to read her eyes, her body, and the little sounds she makes when you touch her, but the mask sometimes feels like a wall between you. You have never met anyone who has seen a ghoul’s true face. There are stories, of course, rumors about their ghastly visage and the usually terrible fate that befalls the poor souls who dare to gaze upon it. But whatever the consequences - blindness, madness, death - you often think it would be worth the risk to know what she looks like when she comes.

She hooks one leg around your hip, digs her heel into your back, and the message is clear: she’s ready. Don’t make her wait for it. You oblige and suck her clit relentlessly, much harder than you would be able to stand yourself, but you know the intense sensation is exactly what she needs. Sure enough, her fist tightens in your hair, her body tenses, and she lets out a long, low moan. You don’t let up, riding her through it until her body goes slack and the fist in your hair releases. She pets your hair, an affectionate touch that’s uncommon for her but you take it for what it is. It’s her way of letting you know you did a good job.

You lick her clean, savoring every last drop until she gently nudges you away. Now that it’s over, you feel the heat between your own legs aching and you know you’re embarrassingly wet without even needing to be touched. But you’ll take care of yourself later. This was about her.

Quietly, you pick up her discarded clothes and dress her. As you snap her suspenders back in place, she takes your face between her hands and pulls you up to meet her eyes. There’s something there you haven’t seen before, something almost soft, almost tender. She leans in, her lips hot against your skin though her mask is startlingly cold, and whispers something you can’t understand. You don’t know how to respond, so you simply bow your head. It seems to be the right answer.

Then the moment passes and she pulls away, leaving you cold and wanting nothing more than to crawl into her, to absorb her warmth. But that’s not an option, at least not tonight. It’s time for you to go. You leave her as you found her, sitting in the dark, your footsteps echoing as you leave, but this time, the rooms feels a little less empty.


End file.
